The last dance was the first dance, a broken waltz for the broken people. Fear is kept inside a bottle, like a ship it took so long to get there. The miniscule parts and pieces twezzered into place, no room for mistake.

Put it on the mantelpiece the good ship fear. Sits as a testimony of all the lies you’ve ever told yourself. And in the hold, in the barrels, instead of rum, there be your greatest insecurities, sometimes you turn them on me, but mostly they are battened down tight.

As the mirror ball reflects glimmering lights onto the drunken revellers, a list is unfurled, the sail of this wayward vessel. The list, written in blood on old parchment, shows whether we’re good enough.

The dancing continues, a nightmare cruise ship cabaret. A parade of shattered promises and alibis you have given. Armed the bow with your cannon fire of sourness.

But, in the Captain’s ready room is a cabinet, the carving ornate and elaborate. Take out the key from your frock suit coat and open the doors, take out the precious box within.

Inside is the truth if you could only believe. It’s up to you what you make of it.

Copyright John de Gruyther 2017


And thanks to Ben, whose brilliant depiction of my character Fear seems to have made an appearance in today’s poem.


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